


How He Fell

by dean_winchester_has_fallen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Aftermath of Torture, Dean Hallucinates, Eventual Castiel/Dean Winchester, Hallucinations, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kevin will stay live if it the last thing I do, M/M, Nightmares, Past Child Abuse, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 08:03:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3602550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dean_winchester_has_fallen/pseuds/dean_winchester_has_fallen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After receiving the Mark of Cain, Dean experiences some side-effects that would bring back not only some unpleasant memories, but also a desire he had long hoped was gone. But it seems that his time with Alistair, coupled with John's "parenting", have affected him more than he was willing to admit. Whilst fighting the escalating side-effects of the Mark, will Dean finally be able to re-evaluate his childhood upbringing and realise his own self-worth, or will he need a bit of assistance to help him do so?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Only the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my very first fic, so please ignore all spelling and grammatical mistakes, I'm still learning! I'd really appreciate any feedback on things I could improve on for this chapter, no matter how small, and maybe some things you'd like to see in the future of this fic. 
> 
> All comments are appreciated. Enjoy!

Dean straightened out his back and walked back to the table where Sam was currently sitting. He slumped into the motel chair wearily and opened the beer he had gotten himself from the motel room fridge which was slowly developing mould. He slowly ran his hand over his face, as if somehow that physical action would be able to wipe away the heavy feeling of exhaustion that was threatening to overwhelm him and force him into another nightmare filled sleep, if it could even be called sleep anymore given how little of it he got anymore. He knew the nightmares was why he was so tired, it was painfully obvious to him, but he refused to see, or even acknowledge, it as a serious problem, even though he knew that it would come back to bite him in the backside eventually, so he tried to delude himself by blaming his tiredness on the hunt that they’d returned from two days ago, even if it had been a piece of cake. All they were doing now is searching for more jobs while waiting for a couple of aching bruises to go away.

  
They’d just finished a job in a small, quaint town near Chicago. To be honest, Dean had found the town a bit creepy. It was the type of town where everything was perfect neighbours that randomly brought round spare casseroles if they made too much, it was all a little _too_ perfect. Anyway, the hunt there hadn't been particularly difficult, which was a nice change. There was nothing out of the ordinary, well, for them at least, just a routine salt-n-burn. This time it had been the vengeful ghost of high school cheerleader, Carmen Harrison, who had been hit after a football game party while walking home, by some not-so-sober jocks who thought that it was a smart idea to drive after drinking a 70ml of vodka. She had wanted them to understand the pain she’d gone through, so she’d thought it a good idea to continually push them, one by one, into on-going traffic, traumatising quite a lot of on-lookers.  
  
However, normal cases weren't what they needed right now; Abaddon was. Unfortunately, due to his very helpful inner monologue which had caused him to space out, Dean hadn't even noticed that in the space of his inner conversation, Sam had gotten himself a beer and had been sitting right in front of him, talking to him the whole time, and was slowly, but very surely, getting more and more frustrated with Dean’s lack of any visual or verbal response that he had been listening in the slightest.

  
“Dean. Dean? Dean! Are you even listening?” Sam clicked his fingers in front of Dean’s face in an attempt to get his attention. Sam’s face, very noticeably, showed how exasperated he was.  
  
“What? Yeah, course I am, Sammy.” Dean blinked, it only now registering for him that Sam had noticed his spacing out.

  
“It’s Sam, and if you were really listening then what did I just say?” What worried Dean the most was that Sam had that small, but noticeable, look of concern mixed in with his otherwise questioning expression, it only proved to him that Sam might think there was something wrong with him, especially if he has noticed he was spacing out like that. Dean really didn't want Sam to find out and then be concerned about his increase in nightmares, even though he was continually denying the fact they ever even happened.

  
Dean’s mind pulled a blank, he actually had no idea what Sam had been saying, so he decided that if he was going to bullshit himself, then he’d bullshit Sam as well, whilst simultaneously ignoring how tired he felt.  
   
“You were saying how much of a girl you are, Samantha.”  
He gave Sam the biggest grin he could muster and struggled not to add a laugh he knew would sound way too faked; hoping Sam wouldn't notice anything amiss; or that he would at least choose to leave the topic alone. Sam’s bitch face made him rethink that he would, indeed, leave the topic alone, Dean struggled to suppress the laughter that was bubbling just below the surface because of Sam’s expression to the response he probably found less than humorous, but after his expression grew sincere Dean knew he should probably have been paying attention.  
  
“Dean, this is serious.”  
  
“Okay, okay, I'm sorry. What were you saying?” He said whilst having the decency to look apologetic.  
  
“I was saying that we really need to find Abaddon. If you had been listening, then you would know that I've been telling you that she’s started to harvest souls. Apparently, since the fight for King or Queen of Hell, she’s decided to up her game. I've been looking up abnormal weather patterns and reports of electrical problems and I found that there have been reports of both of those things in Ohio, so this means that her demon henchmen are stirring up more trouble,  do you think we should think we should check it out?”  
  
“As if things couldn't get worse. Yeah, sure, let’s get going, there’s no way we’re letting this one go on for much longer. Now c’mon, there’s no way we’re driving for that long without more rest, so hop it, Sammy boy, bed time.” Dean got up and headed to get his toiletries bag to complete his night time rituals, therefore missing the concerned look Sam shot him as he got up to do the same as Dean.

  
Sam was concerned, to say the least. Dean had spaced out again today, but it wasn't the first time this had happened. Sam knew something was troubling his brother, more so than usual, and he would find out eventually. But Sam knew pressuring Dean would only result in him closing up even more, he just hoped that it wasn't anything serious, but he pushed the thought away, he needed all the energy he could get for the long road ahead and he was sure Dean could handle himself, at least for the time being.

* * *

  
The long drive to Alger, Ohio took around 15 very long hours, and that wasn't even including the time it had taken them to stop and refuel Baby whilst also getting them some food. They’d decided to split the driving time in between them so Sam had driven for the first half of the drive while Dean sat in the front passengers seat trying to catch up on sleep by curling up against the window, but his plan for rest didn't pan out as well as he had hoped it would. He woke up around 3 hours through the journey dripping with sweat and shaking, jolting awake after yet another nightmare, the screams from his time in Hell slowly echoing away in his mind, but the memory was still as hauntingly clear as ever, leaving him with nothing to face but reality and the hope that Sam hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. He was just happy that he hadn't moved or made any noise in his sleep to alert Sam of his nightmares, which would be problematic.  
  
The nightmares hadn't been going on for long; they’d started just after he’d accepted this damned mark, no pun intended.  The mark hadn't started out affecting him at all, but when it did, it started out small; it would get itchy every so often, and then the itches became unbearable, and it grew from there, going from bad to worse. It had now really started to irritate Dean, starting to itch worse than ever, not to mention the headaches that would pop up out of nowhere at the absolute worst of times, like now, and pound against his skull; he’d almost tripped up when stalking around a haunted house. He knew he should probably tell Sam about this and that he’d be pissed that he hadn't already, but he shook his head, he knew dwelling on his sinister problems wouldn't do him any good, so he did what he always did and shoved them to the back of his mind where all of his other worries were constantly buzzing, after chastising himself for putting himself in a mood and  he made sure to remind himself that he wouldn't think of that again any time soon, Sam had enough on his plate without Dean adding to them by dumping all of his problems on him.  
  
He winced slightly at the dizziness the head shaking mixed had caused, earning him a worried glance, he blamed in on the headache instead of his lack of sleep; the 7 hours he’d just gotten had been the most he’d gotten in one sitting by far in almost a week, but in reality he knew the dizziness was probably a mixture of lack of sleep and the headache, he really need to get some Motrin…  
  
Desperately trying to avoid questions about the wince that _had most certainly not happened_ , he decided to man up and break the silence by asking how long they’d been driving for. After shooting him a look to tell Dean that ‘yes, he had seen the wince, and yes, he was worried but he’d leave it alone for now’, his worry etched face then dissolved into his neutral expression which always appeared whenever he was explaining anything.  
  
“Only about 7 hours so far, we should be there, and hopefully find a motel quickly, after you do your shift of driving. We should arrive at like 12:30, or one in the morning.” Sam continued to look ahead at the road, obviously annoyed at Dean’s lack of talking about anything, but still respecting Dean’s privacy.  
  
“We’re switching halfway, so you got one more hour driving or so, right? Guess that means I’ll start out driving tomorrow since you would've finished your half tonight.”

  
“Yeah, look, Dean, why don’t you try and get some more rest, okay? You look really exhausted.” Sam looked at him with genuine concern and sincerity.  
  
“Sam, I'm fine, I'm just groggy, and I only woke up like 5 minutes ago. Stop fretting and keep your eyes on the road. I’ll just put the on some music, that’ll get me going.”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, but obviously dreaded the heavy, and not to mention _loud,_ tunes that Dean was bound to put on, and surprise, Metallica’s ‘King Nothing’ blasted though the speakers barely 5 seconds later, but it wasn't just the fact that Dean didn't put the music to an almost unbearable volume that worried him, it was that Dean didn't even sing along, not one word, he didn't even hum, heck, Sam couldn't even see Dean bob his along with the rhythm of the song. He stole the occasional glance at Dean and noted the taught, pained expression on his face, as well as the deep purple bags under his eyes that stood out heavily against Dean’s slowly paling face. Sam chose to think of it as a side effect of lack of sleep, but deep down he knew that something was really wrong, but if Dean didn't want to share, then he knew he wouldn't be able to get him to share anyway, he’d pester him later, but only after they’d both had some proper hours of sleep, after all, Dean really looked like he needed it.  


* * *

  
Time flew by and before they knew it, it was 1:15 in the morning and they’d finally arrived, but since they’d done the driving in one sitting, they were both suitably knackered, especially since sleeping in the impala was so hard. Sam had finished his driving slot soon after their brief conversation, and Dean had taken over, however he had tired far more quickly than he would like to admit, especially after not getting any proper rest while Sam had been driving, by no fault of Sam’s, which meant that Sam had been forced to take over again, although slightly cantankerously, to prevent Dean from having a car accident by falling asleep at the wheel.

  
Sam had left Dean alone to go the front desk and book them a room whilst Dean had grabbed their duffel's from the trunk to lug them towards their newly bought room for the next week or so. After shutting the door to their room, he glanced back at his baby, already missing the comforting rumble of her engine, and continued walking to meet Sam outside of their room.  
They did the usual check on the room for things such as hex bags, and then they salted all of the windows and doors. They’d barely spoken over the entire journey and Dean, yet again, was the one to break the slightly awkward silence.

  
“I’ll take first shower.” Dean said, his face not betraying any emotions he might have been feeling.  
  
Sam, too unprepared at the sudden break in silence, and Dean’s abruptness, just stood there as Dean collected his toiletries bag and some clothes to sleep in before he stalked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.  


* * *

  
Dean slammed and locked the door behind him, not sure exactly why he was behaving the way he was. He didn't want Sam to barge in, they were close as brothers but not _that_ close, he let out a small chuckle’ happy that he could lighten the mood, even if he was alone. He dumped his stuff unceremoniously on the floor and undressed, turning on and testing the shower before stepping in, glad to finally be able to wash himself; he felt too grimy after the long journey and wanted to be clean again.  
  
The pounding droplets of water against his back felt relaxing, and almost therapeutic, and he could feel how it eased the tension out of his sore shoulders and back. Relaxing against the heavy flow of water Dean slouched, leaning his arm horizontally against the wall with his head leaning on his forearm, as he let himself relax even further. Driving had tired him out more than it should have, even fir the short amount of time that he was actually driving for.  
The headache was really taking its toll, now. It had been a constant nagging after dying down soon after waking up from the nightmare, but was not coming back full force. Without even realising what he was doing, he scratched at the Mark again; it had started to itch again.

  
After deciding he’d done thoroughly cleansed the grime off of his body he quickly washed his hair and very unwillingly stepped out of the warm, steamy shower, silently wishing he could stay in there for the rest of the week and avoid all the issues buzzing at the back of his mind, but he knew Sam would worry, and no doubt be annoyed, at the amount of time he was taking, plus he wasn't sure how much hot water was left; that would definitely piss Sam off.  
  
Dean had noticed that he’d been glancing at him for almost the whole journey, thinking he wouldn't take notice, nice try, Sammy. Dean sighed and put on some black boxers and a grey t-shirt. Grabbing the rest of his clothes strewn on the floor, he hung up his towels on the rail to the left of the shower and headed out back into the main part of the motel room, letting Sam know he could take his turn in the shower. Dean felt his feet drag and he walked to the bed, and before he knew it he was pulling back the sheets and falling onto the bed, slowly curling the cold, but soon to be warm, cloth around him. He was asleep before not even 5 minutes after his head had hit the pillow, not even awake enough to worry about the nightmares he might, and most likely would, encounter in his sleep.  


* * *

**  
DEAN’S POV**

_I felt the blood, my blood; slowly seep out of the gash in my stomach as I started to cough up more bright red liquid, spurting it all over the stone floor in front of me, as it also dribbles down my chin. Alistair’s chuckle filled the room, echoing countless times before dying down. I flinched; I knew all too well what Alistair was like when he used_ that _laugh. Apparently, my fear of what was going to happen next wasn't clearly apparent; but this only caused the sick bastard to laugh more._  
  
“Is something wrong, Deany boy? I thought you missed me; especially after all this time. What? Am I talking too much again? I thought you liked my commentary, Dean. After all, we have some business to attend to, don’t we? We can’t sort out this business of ours without a little cooperation, so why don’t we get down to it.”  
I knew exactly what he meant, the twisted smile I saw on his face as he entered my field of vision said it all, and I was positive that I knew I definitely did NOT want to be anywhere near the kind of business that he would have planned.

  
“Please, Alistair… No more…”I knew I was breaking; slowly, but surely. He’d even reduced me to begging. The great Dean Winchester, begging for mercy; I decided to ignore how obvious it was how pathetic I’d become because of this man. No; this demon.  
  
“C’mon now, Dean, we’re having such fun.” He had the fucking audacity to chuckle, to god damn chuckle, as if watching my pain was like going to the carnival.

  
A sinister smile slowly spread its way across his face as he lifted the knife from the metal table to my left, and slowly started to carve it across my chest from shoulder to shoulder, making sure to dig in especially across my collar bones; making a grotesque grating noise when the knife reached the bone. I couldn't help myself as I felt the scream ripped from my lips. It was too much, I knew what the sudden feeling of weightlessness meant; I wasn't going to be awake much longer. But at least it was a small escape from this pain, this never ending pain.  
  
But before everything had the chance to become shrouded in the darkness I was all too quick to welcome, I heard one last whisper that brought me more fear than the previous ten years of torture I had endured so far.

  
“I’ll be seeing you very soon, Dean.”  


* * *

  
**Sam’s POV**

The sudden gasping, choking noise that tore me from my sleep caused me to fall out of bed in alarm and panic, and made me land quite awkwardly with my long gangly limbs, in the middle of the two twin beds. I slowly got to my feet, groaning at the now dull pain from the fall and stiffness from sleep, and turned on the light which sat on the table between the beds; eager, but cautious, to find out what exactly had been the cause, although something already told me I wasn't going to like it.  
  
As my eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, the light illuminated Dean’s rigid body which sat bolt upright, and it certainly didn't help to hide how pale Dean had become. A light sheen of sweat appeared to cover his entire body, especially by the looks of his t-shirt, which was sticking to his torso as his deep, ragged breaths caused the small parts of his t-shirt with where actually void of sweat, to billow ever so slightly, despite the stickiness surrounding them. He slowly turned around to me; fear still clearly evident in his eyes. A glint of _something_ in his expression was quickly erased before I could decipher what it was, as he threw up his walls after realising the emotionally revealing position he was in. I was hesitating to speak, lest it cause him to close up even more, therefore causing further harm to his already apparent fragile state of mind; but even so, I still thought I should make sure he was okay.  
  
“Uh, Dean, what was that? You alright, man?” His eyes grew in size as he realised that I wasn't going to directly ask what the fuck had just happened; even know it was very clear that I wanted to know, but all he did was seem to continue to take in his surroundings and what had just happened before quietly answering.  
  
“Course I am, Sammy, just a little bad dream that’s all, go back to sleep.” He tilted his head down, as if ashamed that he’d been caught showing any sign of emotional weakness.  
  
I could see his posture slumping slightly, and I inwardly sighed. I looked towards the clock, and realised he’d only been asleep for two hours. Feeling too tired to continue the useless battle when I knew I wouldn't be able to get him open up now; I vowed to myself to talk to him tomorrow and pester the answer out of him then. I could tell this nightmare had shaken him, especially since nightmares were usually my area of expertise, this must freak him out even more if he wasn't used to it.

“If you’re sure, but Dean, get yourself some rest, okay?” I patted his knee in an attempt to comfort him, not noticing how he slightly flinched at the contact.  
  
“Sure thing, Sammy, will do.”  
  
I reluctantly got back up to crawl into my bed before reaching out to the table to turn out the light. But just to make sure I could keep an eye on him more efficiently, I went to sleep facing Dean, and only after hearing his breaths even out did I finally let exhaustion take over as I fell into a dreamless sleep.

 


	2. Growing Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam grows more suspicious of Dean's odd behaviour, especially after a certain incident... And Dean fears that the worst is about to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a second chapter! On April Fools, none the less, but I promise, this is no joke. Again, this chapter is completely unbetad, so apologies for all the mistakes.  
> I also hope that this story isn't going too fast for peoples tastes.  
> Kudos and comments are appreciated greatly! And let me know if there is a specific direction you would like me to continue in with this story and I'll do my best to incorporate it.

They were both exhausted. They’d been working almost all day trying to figure out how Abaddon was actually harvesting the souls, which sounded far creepier than either of them liked. Anyway, in the haze of their work filled minds, they had both forgotten that they need food to survive, so upon deciding they needed a break from the crappy take-out food they had had last night, they had decided to go out for breakfast to the local diner, which much to Dean’s disappointment, and anger did, pie that really shouldn't have even been listed as pie on the menu.

  
 As per their usual seating arrangements in any eating establishments, they positioned themselves as the very back which was hidden from most of the diner’s view, and settled into a corner booth to give them enough privacy to talk about everything they needed to for this case without getting any weird looks from other customers.   
  
As they settled in, an old, but not too old, maybe mid-40s, waitress came over to get their drink (who was way more red lipstick than any respectable women her age ever should). Dean, even though it was extremely unlikely he would get any ‘action’ from a women that age, would always rise to the challenge of their flirtations, which was why it completely surprised Sam when he saw Dean, seemingly unintentionally, ignoring the waitress’s suggestive comments as she scuttled away, obviously ruffled and offended from Dean’s bluntness and his lack to even acknowledge her flirtations, as he ordered 2 coffees and 2 short stacks for him and Sam, who glanced worriedly at his brother, whom was looking noticeably paler than he did yesterday, and Dean being Dean, shouldn't be looking pale at all due to his tanned skin.  
  
It was then that Sam, very smartly, decided to bring up the topic he’d been dying to ask about already, but hadn't wanted to push him about.  
“Listen, Dean, are you okay? And don’t bullshit me, okay? I know something is wrong with you, you've been acting kind of weird lately, and I haven’t wanted to bother you with it because I know you like your space and you like to deal with things on your own, but Dean, I know you've been having nightmares-“  
  
Dean stiffened as his complexion paled further, but Sam continued anyway, determined to get his concerns across.   
  
“-and that you've been getting progressively more distracted as time goes on. You keep on staring off into space as if something is distracting you. I feel like this is something that’s a lot more than just a lack of sleep which I know is caused by your nightmares, which I'm also very concerned about.... But Dean, you've got let me in to help you; I don’t want you to have to struggle through this alone. So, please, just let me know what’s going on with you.”  
  
Dean looked down at the table, an almost unnoticeable look of pure panic from being found out and apprehension on his face. Bearing in mind Dean’s reaction to his little speech Sam was worried that his fear had come true and Dean had completely shut down.  
  
But all Dean could think of was that he hadn't hidden his issues well enough, he had let his mask slip, and now he’d made Sam worry. What concerned Dean most of all though, wasn't that Sam knew he was having nightmares, even though that still greatly worried him, it was nothing compared to the anxiety he felt at the prospect that Sam would find out what it was exactly that was the cause of him spacing out so much, even though Dean continued to convince himself that they were a side effect of the nightmares. Dean would happily admit to the nightmares if it meant that Sam would avoid the topic of what was distracting him during the day, maybe he could convince Sam it was an after effect of the nightmares; that they made him too tired to properly concentrate. Either way, he couldn't properly collect his thoughts when Sam was staring expectantly and worriedly at him. He needed privacy and a little time to collect his thoughts.  
  
Unknowing of Dean’s inner turmoil, Sam was extremely surprised when the silence was  abruptly broken as Dean looked up to stare him straight in the eyes, his face completely blank and void of any emotion, although by the look in his eyes it appeared as if something dangerous was simmering just below the surface.  
  
“I'm going to the restroom. I’ll be back in a few.”  
  
And before Sam could protest Dean was sliding out of their booth and calmly, but quickly, walking towards the men’s room at the opposite side of the diner as if a hellhound was about to come through the door to maul him.   
Fuck. Hellhound. Shit. The realisation hit Sam in the face harder than a ton of bricks, was Dean having nightmares about Hell? He thought that that was over.  
_  
Fuck.  
_  
The realisation left Sam stunned for longer than he would like to admit, and the only thought that actually registered in his mind as he leapt out of the booth to chase after his brother to make sure he was okay was _“Why in hell didn't he say anything…”_  


* * *

  
As soon as Sam had started to talk, it had happened again, the distraction had appeared. Alistair had appeared, sitting right next to Dean in the booth as if they were all normal friends going out for a normal meal like normal people, except one of them was a hallucination, another was insane, and the last of them was ignorant to the whole situation at hand. And as soon as Sam had that sincere, puppy dog look on his face, which his lips fixed in a pout, Alistair had chosen that specific moment to start their usual, but very unwanted routine.   
  
But what Dean hated most was the fact that he had no choice in the matter of whether it was a usual routine or not, God knows he’d never choose this, but even if he could control when it happened he could hide it better from Sam. But of course, Alistair had started doing what Dean was most afraid of, what was constantly worrying away at his sanity; reminding him of who he pretended not to be, reminding him of everything that he had tried too hard to bury down so deep that even the alcohol couldn't reach it. But it was all for nothing, when Alistair put his mind to something he poured all his heart (or lack of one) into it.  
  
This resulted in Dean not being to hear a damn word Sam was saying, it didn't even matter that Alistair was whispering; his venomous words and the meaning behind them resonated louder in his head then Sam’s softer, concerned words ever would, or could; and that scared Dean to no end. He shallowly ducked his head in a last resort attempt to stop Sam seeing the look of panic on his face when Alistair’s voice morphed into Sam’s as he continued whispering, his voice laced with venom as hateful words poured from the demon’s maw.  
  
“You know I blame you, Dean, for me dying, all those years ago? I never forgot or forgave you, how could I after knowing full well that it was your fault. After all, you let me out of your sight. You failed. Dad gave you one job, and you failed. You let me get taken; I bet you didn't even care,  bet you were glad to see me gone, one less person for you to let down, well too bad, because you did let me down, you let down me and Dad. Because of your stupid diet of fast food you decided to send me in to get a stupid burger and pie, and you know what that selfishness caused? I got taken. I died. I died on _your_ watch, under _your_ protection. All because I wanted to be a good brother to you and followed your orders, your non-stop orders. I listened to you. I _trusted_ you.”  
  
Dean mentally withdrew within himself, a cold sweat starting to break out on his noticeably pale skin. He’d let Sam down, he’d _let_ Sam get taken. How could he let that happen? He stopped in the middle of his destructive tough when he realised something; Sam had said “trusted”; past tense. He had lost Sam’s trust. He’d lost Sam. He’d lost.  
  
“And what did I get in return for trusting you? For trusting my big brother? I got stolen away, taken away from you, taken _because_ of you, and taken because you couldn't do one simple job that any seven year old would have been able to do and look after your baby brother properly, you couldn't do the only goddamn job you've been given, all because you were too selfish. I _died_ because of your selfishness, Dean. I _died_ because of _you_. And even when you found me, which took you long enough, did you stop for another burger, Dean? You couldn't even save me. You couldn't even manage to get there in time.   
You failed. You’re a failure.  
I died. You failed.  
No matter how many years you spend getting chummy with Alistair and his tools in Hell, you will never be able to get the blood off of your hands. I wonder whose blood is it that stains your hands, huh Dean. It’s my blood. It’s _my_ fucking blood. You little brother’s. That’s _my_ goddamn blood on your hands. Your own baby brother’s blood is on your hands, Dean. You killed me. You are a killer. A murderer. You murdered your own brother, your kin, and your _family._ I guess dad was right all along, I should have listened to him; you really are a failure.”  
  
Dean’s breath hitched, he knew Dad thought he was a failure, he’d known that for a long time,  but it didn't stop him from finding it absolutely unbearable when he heard Sam’s voice utter the same words his dead-beat of a Dad had told him since he was four. He needed out. He barely managed to splutter out a blank faced excuse to Sam, the real Sam he tried to remind himself, before he was rushing out of the booth to head to the restroom at the other end of the diner as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself so he could attempt to regain his previous easy going demeanour. He didn't even bother going into a stall, he simply slammed the main restroom’s door shut and leant his back against it as he tried to catch his breath, more from trying to calm his toxic thoughts that from the exertion of the power walk.   
  
He knew that running wouldn't help, and he immediately regretted leaving Sam without a proper explanation, all he was doing was making him worry even more. Guilt flooded through his system. He felt _guilty.  
  
_  Before he had rushed to the men’s room, it had seemed like Sam had been saying something important, most likely in relations to Dean’s recent health downfall, but he just couldn't take it anymore and he had succumbed to the instant need to run away from his problems, Alistair got the better of him, a _gain_ ; because he was _weak._ Dean let out a dark chuckle, Dad had been right all along.  
  
He let his head fall back until it hit the hardness of the door, his breath was coming out slightly easier now, Alistair’s antics slowly becoming less agitating when the voice itself wasn't currently reminding him was a failure he was. He slowly slid down, ignoring the way the door hitched up his many layers, until he was seated fully on the grimy floor, which he successfully ignored, with his head between his knees, cradling his head in a desperate to protect his thoughts from more poisonous attacks.   
  
Now that Dean had escaped from Sam’s intense gaze his mind was only just beginning to properly register that the whispering was starting again, a much slower rise this time, however it only took him a minute to realise Alistair’s voice was gone, and that the source of the whispering was coming from another, equally as toxic, source. Dean jerked his head around, trying to pointlessly search throughout the empty room, but he soon realised that he was alone, completely 100% alone, and that the whispering was not coming from an outside source, the one doing whispering harmful everything’s in his ear was himself.   
  
This was it; he let out a darkened chuckle. He was finally losing it. Hell had shattered him beyond recognition, and even Cas, a frickin’ angel, could  not even hope to properly fix him. And now all it had taken was none other than himself to perform the final, damaging blow to his sanity. Dean’s head pounded with his recent epiphany, one that was most definitely not a welcome one.   
  
However, it wasn't until Dean was forcefully shoved forward by the door being pried open, and a gangly heap of limbs piling through the gap between the door and wall, did he realise what had caused the pounding, and it wasn't just the pain his thoughts caused him. The gangly heap of limbs was  none other than Sam. He’d been knocking on the door, trying to break it down, that is until he realised it was locked. Shit, that isn't right, if it was locked Sam probably couldn't have gotten in at all with his added weight against the door. That could only mean one thing; he’d forgotten to lock the door. Well, it looks like Sam had succeeded in getting in at least, even if it had resulted in both of them sprawled out on the floor which Dean finally realised looked absolutely filthy.   
  


* * *

  
“What the hell was that, Dean?” Sam panted, clearly out of breath from exerting himself from banging on the door to the point where he simply burst through.  
“I mean, Jesus! Are you okay? You can’t just go running off like that with no explanation!”   
  
By the time Sam had finished thoroughly chastising Dean for running off, his voiced laced with obvious unease at Dean’s outburst but also annoyance, well shit, Dean hadn't meant to make him annoyed, great, another thing he hadn't planned that managed to go down the hole which was slowly filling up with things he’d done wrong.   
  
“Sorry Sam.”  
  
Dean took some more breaths, trying to regulate his breathing until it returned to normal. His little ‘episode’, as well as Sam’s sudden appearance, had left his breath coming in and out in short breaths which had made him feel a familiar light-headedness that he could never get used to, but he knew he needed to get his breath back in order to try and cover up what was wrong, but he had a creeping suspicion that Sam already knew that something wasn't quite right.   
  
Dean plastered a grin on his face.  
“Sorry about that; some of the left over burritos I had last night must have been just a bit on the bad side; they left me with a case of ‘the runs’, if you get where I'm coming from, didn't exactly want to have to explain all that in a diner full of people, it would've ruined your chance with our waitress, I bet.”  
Dean winked at Sam and chuckled, but in deep contrast to his outward attitude he felt numb and drained, but it wasn't as if he would ever let Sam know that.  
  
Sam looked unconvinced, but thankfully it seemed like he was going to leave it alone, for now at least. Dean knew that look on Sam’s face, it was the one that clearly stated ‘I am deciding to be a really good brother and leave you alone for now to collect yourself because it’s pretty obvious that you need to, but when I think that you’re collected enough to talk about this, come rain or shine, I will get you to talk about this’.  
  
Dean dreaded that moment, but decided that it was future Dean’s problem, so all that he would worry about for now was the sense of impending dread that settled like a damp, cold blanket on his shoulders, weighing him down and causing his shoulder to hunch. In a futile attempt to try and get rid of that unwelcome feeling of being weighed down, he took a deep breath and did his best to prepare himself for the amount he pretending he would have to do to appear even close to feeling okay.  
  


* * *

  
Sam quietly shut their motel room door behind him after he had followed Dean through the door. He took in Dean’s defeated and tired posture, his shoulders were slumped down, feet dragging on the floor, and his head lowered in defeat. However, he could also see that Dean was doing his best not to appear beaten down, and this worried him even more. Dean was trying to hide the hurt, which he is usually too good at, but now after his episode at the diner, he hasn't been able to properly hide anything, and if Dean can’t summon the energy to hide things to stop Sam from worrying, that was cause for concern.  
  
 He sighed. Dean was getting progressively worse and he didn't even know what was wrong with him yet. Why couldn't Dean just open up already? He knew his brother could be extremely stubborn (understatement) when it came to talking about anything vaguely connected to feelings or emotions  because apparently those were ‘chick flick moments’, and gods forbid that he actually admits that something is wrong with him and that he needs help. Sam knew that he would get the information out of him one way or another, but he’d had to wait until tomorrow; Dean looked like he would pull Sam’s throat out with his bare teeth if Sam so much as even mentioned, or even hinted, at the incident that had just occurred at the diner.

  
But as Sam watched with growing concern as Dean pulled off his jacket and slumped down in a chair at the table, pulling out the laptop to set to work, he realised that  confronting Dean should not wait over a week otherwise he had a bad feeling that it would get out of hand.  
  
“Dean?”

  
“What is it, Sam.”   
  
“Don’t you think you should… You look really tired, why don’t you sleep while I do the research?”  
  
“You always do the research, Sam. And I'm fine. Just go get some rest. I’ll wake you up in a couple hours. You look exhausted.”  
  
Dean then had the audacity to have that look on his face which meant that arguing wasn't even a vague possibility, and even Sam’s puppy Dog eyes probably wouldn't work when Dean got as stubborn as this about these things. After sending Dean a look that said ‘we _are_ going to talk about this later’, he slowly walked over to the bed and stripped, throwing his clothes on his duffel at the end of the bed, until he was in nothing but the t-shirt he wore under his plaid shirt and jacket, and his boxers. He didn't even bother to brush his teeth, now that Dean had forced him away from work and commented on his tiredness; Sam was really to starting to notice the fatigue that plagued his conscious mind. Deciding to actually utilise this spare time that Dean had forced on him; Sam crawled under the sheets of the motel bed and soon fell into a dreamless sleep.   
  


* * *

  
Dean waited until he heard Sam’s breathe even out before he allowed himself to quietly groan in frustration and do his best to block out the continuous stream of vile words spewing out of Alistair’s mouth in his head, even though he knew it wouldn't do any good, Alistair’s words always got through to him.  


_Do you really think he trusts you, Dean? After all that’s happened? I know you see those doubtful glares he keeps sending your way, they’re coming more often, as well. It seems a bit like you two are lacking in a little trust in each other, then again, why should Sam even trust you after you killed him? I can hardly blame him though, look at yourself; you’re starting to tear at the seams. If only he knew what you are capable of, he’d never be able to doubt you again, he wouldn't have time, and he’d be too busy being downright terrified of you, as he should be. He’d run from you, but I bet he wouldn't know he’d be running from the_ real _you, would he?  
  
And you’re only improving, with a little more of my special guidance you’ll be new and improved, even better than you were in Hell, and that’s a _ hell _of a title to beat, isn't it… Ripper. Or was it_ Monster _? That’s what they called you down in the pit, wasn't it? Rumours spread about my prodigal apprentice; it wasn't hard to figure out who they meant. You were quite the little demon down there, better than the real thing. And you’re so close to breaking free of that stupid chain stopping you from achieving your full potential; humanity. But we’ll soon fix that._  
  
After all, it is a teacher’s greatest dream to see their pupil surpass them, and you’re almost there. You’re oh so close, Dean. But you know what the best thing is? You can’t hide from me, Dean. You’re mistaken if you think you can. But you’ll never be able to hide from this part of yourself. You didn't leave a part of you in Hell, you brought something back. I know exactly what type of thoughts manage to creep their way into your head when you walk past people in the street, even if they’re just innocent citizens, you think about how easy it would be to take out the knife you always keep hidden on the inside of your jacket, and to just dig it into their shoulder, twisting it through layers of flesh as your watch blood spurt from the wound that you know won’t be fatal, but will surely cause a lot of pain, but you’d know all about that, wouldn't you?  
  
I bet you’d rip into their throat with your bare teeth while you’re at it, feeling their life essence run in between your teeth and bubble up in your mouth, staining you face with that beautiful crimson which you've misses oh so much. But then what? Move onto someone else? There are so many options, you really are spoiled for choice; you could even take someone away for a more private entertainment session, make sure they suffer slowly, and properly. Ah, but what about Sam? I bet he’d feel pretty left out. I bet you’d make your brother real proud with all the things you’d be able to show him about the human body.  
  
Dean did his best to try and block out the continuous thrum of Alistair’s word as they reverberated around his head, causing his previously gone headache to arise with burning intent. Suddenly, the bright white light of the laptops screen became too much for Dean’s eyes to bear as he slammed the screen shut, hoping that he hadn't woken Sam with the clatter. Sighing in relief when he heard no movement from Sam’s bed, he decided he didn't want to be conscious anymore, he’d had an exhausting day after all, and he chuckled to himself darkly.   
  
Even though he knew his nights would most likely be jam-packed with Alistair filled nightmares, it didn't stop weariness from overwhelming him as he barely managed to get out of his clothes so that all he was left in was his t-shirt and boxers as he flopped down into the spare bed nearest to the door. As his eyes finally managed to close and sleep overtook him, he thanked the stars for the rare eerie silence that Alistair had provided him with. However, the rare silence caused Dean to fear that all he'd endured to far was the build up to an unavoidable storm.  
  
  



	3. The Beginning of an End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With enough pressure, even the strongest of souls may crack, and something can only crack so much before it shatters beyond repair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey! I'm not dead!  
> Sorry for my absence, I've had a lot of stuff going on.  
> Personal issues and school work and exams do not go well together. I'm really sorry this has taken so long to be updated, but finally! The next chapter has arrived! I hope you enjoy it, let me know what you like, dislike, any ideas for where you'd like the story to go. All comments are really appreciated, they really help motivate me to write more.  
> Again, this story continues to be unbeta'd, so please let me know any mistakes, I won't think you're being mean or anything! But it also helps my writing improve, thank you!  
> Enjoy!

A week later

In Dean’s defence, he hadn’t meant to lash out. It wasn’t his fault, Sam had really been asking for it. He had been complaining all day long, from when they woke up right up until they went to sleep only to continue the cycle the following day, even if most of it was small things like running out of toothpaste, however the recurring theme he started to notice in Sam’s complaining was that it was him that hadn’t bought more toothpaste, or gotten them food, or any other menial thing Sam managed to complain about. The complaining wasn’t a new habit for Sam, he’d done it since he’d been able to talk, and Dean had dealt with that and accommodated what his little brother needed, especially since John certainly hadn’t been there to deal with it. However, it was only recently that Sam’s ‘small’ habit of bitching about everything had come to seriously irritate Dean, and even he can admit that he perhaps didn’t react in the best way possible.

However, Sam had been complaining an abnormal amount, even for him, which had Dean wondering if he’d pissed off the man upstairs enough for him to have to suffer through Sam’s constant bitching at even higher levels than normal, and Dean had officially had enough. Even whilst Dean had been able to have this long monologue in his head, Sam had been talking, as per usual, and Dean just for god’s sake wanted him to please for god’s sake just shut up. He had reached his breaking point. 

“Sam, please, for the love of God shut up and let me have a little peace and quiet for once, okay?”

Oh, had he said that out loud? 

Sam looked as if Dean had grown a second head, which in their line of business wasn’t that far out of the realm of the possible. His face was now frozen in an expression of complete and utter shock, his beer loosely hung in his hands halfway between the table, and the shocked, hurt, expression on Sam’s face made Dean realise just how much his reaction may have been a bit out of line. Dean huffed out a breath, not really expecting himself to react that harshly but also not quite willing to apologise, and only quite realising this after his verbal diarrhoea. What shocked him even more was Sam’s stony silence, that wasn’t an expected reaction to his outburst; he’d expected a sharp retort, or lots more shouting and complaining at his grumpiness.

After another minute or two of the deathly silence which caused Dean to get small goose bumps along his arms, Dean got up without even a word to Sam, who was still sitting there, a slightly concerned look on his face, grabbed his toothbrush and was out of the kitchenette area they had been seated in, before Sam would be able to get a word in. He headed towards the bathroom, thus ending any chance of conversation, which Sam would be likely to want after his outburst. Sam hadn’t even been allowed the chance to place his beer down or stop Dean from leaving before he was already gone and out of Sam’s reach.

 

Sam was speechless. For Dean to lash out at him to this extent, something had to be seriously wrong. The last time Dean had been seriously angry with him was when he’d been sleeping with Ruby, but this time, he knew there was a possibility that the problem could lay with what Dean was pretending didn’t exist, like all of his problems.  
He sat stock still, trying to figure out if there actually was anything he could have done to set Dean off. 

The realisation hit Sam in the face like a freight train. Dean wasn’t properly angry at Sam, because it wasn’t Dean at all. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t connected it until now; it was the Mark of Cain. All these small signs that Sam had been too preoccupied to notice at first had started just after Dean had got the Mark, the signs Sam had been too distracted to notice: the nightmares; the headaches Dean was trying so hard to hide; the way he was always idly scratching the Mark; not to mention the pent up anger that had appeared out of nowhere and continued to grow to worrying proportions, and that was just the Sam could recall, he couldn’t even imagine the amount of smaller things Dean had been able to hide from him. 

But there was one more thing; Dean was always staring off into space nowadays, as if something was there that was drawing his attention away from even the most of important situations like a hunt briefing, and even sometimes in the middle of a hunt. That was when he was angriest, almost verging on completely unreasonable paranoia. Sam knew he had to try and talk to Dean about this, and he wouldn’t let Dean brush it off like previous times, he’d already taken too long thinking about it. He got up from the table they had been sat, and walked towards the bathroom, but immediately slowed when he heard Dean talking. But no one else was in the motel room, especially the bathroom, Cas knew better by now than to zap himself in there, so who was he talking to? Sam turned around and saw Dean’s phone on the table. This was not a good sign. Sam crouched down and peeked through the small keyhole; Dean was pacing back and forth, Sam could barely make out what Dean was saying, why the motel had doors this thick he didn’t want to know, he could barely hear the scratchy tone of Dean’s whisper shouts.

“Leave me alone!”

“Just shut up! That’s not true, he still trusts me.”

“It’s not doing anything to me! The Mark is a means to an end… Besides, Sam agrees with me, I don’t need your approval.”

“He does trust me! And I’m sure... He Cares…”

“No, he would tell me…”

Sam was tempted to burst through the door to comfort Dean as he slid down the wall facing the door, his head in his hands, back hunched, but he knew that would do more harm than good at the moment. 

“No, you’re wrong. I’m nothing like him, I would never… Not like he did to me…”

“Please… Leave me alone…”

If the talking to himself hadn’t concerned Sam enough at this point, the begging would have been sure-fire to set off his alarms. Sam could only assume the worst when Dean screamed: 

“JUST GO AWAY!”

Sam waited a few moments, crouched and motionless, so as not to give away the fact he had seen the whole thing before he burst through the door as if he hadn’t been waiting right outside. 

“Dean! What the hell?! Are you okay?”

Dean’s head snapped up at the sound of the door slamming and Sam’s persistent questions. 

“I’m fine Sammy, just getting calls from one of my one night stands, they won’t leave me alone, you know how it is.” A twisted smirk painted his face. He could hear the falseness in his words. Letting out a throaty chuckle he slowly climbed to his feet and passed Sam to get to his bed. 

Sam deemed it best to avoid pointing out the fact there had been no phone. He turned to see Dean slumped across his bed, probably already asleep, with all the sleep Dean hadn't been getting he wouldn't be surprised. Sam couldn’t blame him, but he knew something need to be done about Dean hearing voices he wouldn't let Dean just continue to ignore this very pressing issue. He knew what needed to be done and who he needed to call, he also knew that Dean wouldn't be happy in the slightest about this decision. 

He quietly grabbed his jacket and silently headed out the door, shutting it as slowly as possible to avoid any noise that could wait his brother up. He waited for any response from Dean, a shuffling of sheets, or a quiet, irritated mumbling; but he heard nothing. He walked along the row of doors until he came to the end of the car park where the Impala was parked, he was as far away as he could go without leaving the motel's premises. Slightly leaning aainst the car's hood, he bowed his head and uttered his prayer, hoping and pleading that it would be answered. He quickly looked around to check the parking lot was empty except him before bowing his head again is quiet resignation. 

“Cas, I need your help, it's Dean…”

A soft fluttering of wings answered his silent question of whether Cas would show up or not. 

“Sam, what’s wrong?”

“The mark; I think it's affecting Dean… Only 5 minutes ago I caught him talking to himself in the bathroom, he'd shouted at me just before then. He never gets angry at me, not really... It's as if he's hearing voices, and when he finally left the bathroom he blew it off as if he was getting pestered by one of his flings - ”

Sam ignored the irked looked that plagued Cas’ face when he mentioned Dean’s one night stands. Curious, but not what he needed to focus on right now.

“- even though his phone had been left on the table, nowhere near him. He’s also been staring into space a lot, getting angrier, tense, almost paranoid, and he’s always scratching the Mark… I’m really worried; I think something’s seriously wrong with him, and I know it has to do with the Mark.”

Cas gave Sam a sympathetic look. 

“I feared something like this would happen. I think you are rightl; that the Mark is affecting him. Sam, that Mark was bestowed upon Cain by Lucifer himself. It was bound to have serious consequences for accepting it, especially because Dean is human; his body is weaker than that of a demon, it cannot endure as much phsyical or mental strain. Cain is a demon and is therefore immune to the effects of the Mark, or at least able to better withstand its side-effects. It is designed to corrupt, and since Dean’s soul is still pure, the Mark is trying to corrupt him from the inside out. I think it is necessary to take Dean back to the bunker for this, Sam. The wards there might help dull the Mark's negative effect. The hunt can wait.”

“I knew it was bad, but this…? Dammit! Why didn’t he say anything?”

Sam sighed to himself, running his fingers through his hair to try and calm himself, before continuing. 

“Okay, let’s go wake him and pack up.”

They both walked back to their room, their shoulders tense with anticipation, not bothering to be quiet in an attempt to wake Dean.  
The only response they got when openeing the creaky door was a small groan, indicating they should have been quieter. Sam knew Dean wouldn’t wake up on his own so he went over and shook Dean by his shoulder.

“Dean, c’mon, wake up. We’re heading back to the bunker.”

This got a reaction out of Dean. He sat up groggily; a taught, yet confused expression on his face.

“What! Why? We haven’t finished the hunt. We can’t go back there, Sam, we can’t. There are innocent people here, we just abandon this.”

Sam was shocked at the look of poorly-concealed panic that crossed Dean’s face. Sam knew he had to get Dean back to the bunker as quickly as possible, especially given Cas’ concerned expression, so he came up with the first excuse he could come up with.

“What’s wrong with going back, Dean? Look, I left something vital to finding Abaddon back at the bunker, so hurry up and pack.”

Sam hoped the order would encourage Dean just to go along with it, but it only caused further panic as Dean hopped out of bed backing up until he hit the wall, his breath had started to quicken. Why had this elicited such a strong response out of him? 

“Whoa, hey, Dean. Calm down. It’s going to be okay, just calm down.”

“No! Sam, I can’t go back there!”

Cas chose then to comment.

“Sam, it is most likely the Mark affecting him like this. Given it is a demonic symbol, going to the bunker, a very well warded place against almost anything demonic, it would panic at having to go there.”

Dean didn’t seem to hear Cas at this point, he was slowly closing in on himself, sliding down the wall he clutched at his ears and staring at something in the background as if something insufferable was pestering him, something which Sam and Cas couldn’t hear. The realisation hit Sam like a brick. Dean wasn’t just seeing things, he was hearing them too. Whatever Dean was seeing was talking to him, that’s why he had been so out of it, always distracted... Sam mentally berated himself for not realising sooner. But he would think about that later, he need to focus on Dean, who had started to mumble something, and Sam wasn’t sure he wanted to know what. He turned to Cas for help. 

“Cas, can you do anything to help him?”

Cas rushed forward, only causing Dean to try to scramble away, although there weren’t many places he could go given he was already against the wall. Slowing his pace, Cas advanced and, ignoring the panicked expression cross Dean’s face, pressed two of his fingers against Dean’s forehead. Dean’s eyes closed as his body went slack; he slid along the wall before crashing on the floor, his face pale and slicked with sweat.

Sam let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

“Thanks, Cas.” 

Cas shot him a worried look.  
“He’s worse than I thought, he shouldn't be reacting this strongly, unless the Mark's corruption has a stronger hold than we anticipated. He is hallucinating as well I take it, given his mumbling and staring into space. I think it best we get him to the bunker as soon as possible. Preferably before he wakes up, I’m not sure he appreciates me using my ‘angel mojo’ on him, especially under the influence of the Mark.”

“I couldn’t agree more. 

"Let’s get going then, you take him to the car and I’ll pack all of your belongings, and Sam? Do hurry.”


	4. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive back at the bunker and plan for the future with only minor(ish) complications.
> 
> (TW for nightmares and implied/referenced abuse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back, back again *jams*  
> So yup, sorry again for the long interval between chapters, I'm terrible .-.  
> If you like it, comments and kudos are immensely appreciated!  
> If you have something you'd like me to explore in this fic, *please* feel free to let me know, it seriously fuels my writing. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

The drive back to the bunker felt like it took hours too long, but luck had not completely abandoned them as Dean stayed unconscious for the whole journey, most likely due to Cas' angel magic knocking him out at the hotel. The air in the car was tense, they both had too many questions that neither of them had the answer to. It was only when they were half-way there that Sam remembered they needed to call Kevin, who had been looking after the bunker while he and Dean were out hunting. Sam didn't worry about waking Dean, knowing that Cas' magic was still-in-effect.

"Cas, do me a favour and phone Kevin? We need to let him know what's going on; we'll be there in a couple of hours, best to give him a little warning."

It was weird to hear his own voice after such a long period of silence, but he didn't dwell on it as he awkwardly leant back in his seat to allow his hand to fit in his tight jean pocket to grab his phone. The car swerved a bit on the road as he wrestled the phone out of his front left pocket, they were lucky that it was the middle of the night which meant no traffic for miles.

Cas grabbed the phone as soon as it was out of Sam's pocket and he steered the car straight again. The phone call didn't last long. Despite the fact that Kevin has every right to know what was happening with Dean, both Cas and Sam would rather wait until they were back at the bunker to tell him everything, Kevin reluctantly acquiesced.

Silence filled the car after Cas ended the call. All they could do now was drive as fast as they could without being pulled over and hope the bunker, along with Kevin, might be able to yield some answers to help solve the very deep hole they had dug themselves.

______________________________

Kevin was waiting outside when they finally arrived at the bunker. He was dressed in a faded grey t-shirt and red plaid pyjama trousers that Sam doubts he had been out of in the past few days. There was a frown on his face, carving deep creases between his eyebrows, his arms crossed in front of his chest, projecting his frustration. He walked closer while Sam and Cas exited the car and to go to the back seat to get Dean.

"Cas, I've got Dean. You might want to start explaining to Kevin, I want to get him inside as quickly as possible."

"From the looks of it, it might be better to get Dean in first and explain later. It doesn't look like he's waking up anytime soon, once he's settled down we can the long overdue conversation Kevin is patiently waiting for." Kevin moved to the boot to grab their bags, quickly shutting it again. He didn't look at Sam or Cas as he moved around the car to head into the bunker.

"Guess we'd better get a move on."

Sam moved to the side of the Impala, opened the door, and dragged Dean towards him, making it easier to get an arm hooked under his knees and behind his back. He kicked the door shut behind him, silently hoping that when Dean next saw the Impala he didn't notice the small scuff mark near the bottom of the door. He hefted Dean up in his arms, getting a better grip, as he walked into the bunker and manoeuvred down the stairs doing his best to make sure Dean's head didn't hit anything, Cas only a step behind him, shutting and locking the door behind them.

As they travelled through the bunker to Dean's room, Sam could feel him twitch in his sleep, small mumbles barely audible as he shifted slightly in Sam's grip. He had a bad feeling that this was the beginning of a nightmare, but Dean always had been a sleep talker. Sam's worries are eased slightly when Dean merely curls up when he's placed on his bed, the mumbling and twitching quieting down. Sam backed out of the room leaving the door slightly ajar as he headed back towards what is essentially the bunker's living room. Cas and Kevin were already there, Cas nearing the end of what happened at the motel with Dean.

"After Dean was unconscious, we decided the best course of action would be to come back here, where wards against this kind of work are strongest. There are also many useful research materials here that may aid in our effort to help cure Dean. The 'hunt' Sam and Dean were on was mainly investigating Abaddon's reasons for collecting souls. Although, I may be able to help with that. I still have some connections within the ranks of Seraphs I was previously teamed with; as the souls are being stolen it can be classified as needing interference from us. I will talk to my contacts as soon as possible to help the investigation in Alger."

Kevin sat in silence for a few moments as Sam sat down on the sofa opposite him. Sam ended up breaking the quiet.

"Dean's still unconscious. I've laid him down on his bed and left the door slightly open so that we will be able to hear if anything happens. He mumbled and twitched a bit until he was on his bed, but apart from that he's been quiet."

"Okay, so basically to sum up, Dean accepted this messed up mark from a frickin' Prince of Hell or something so that he could have the power to kill Abaddon, which I'm really looking forward to by the way, but every since then he's been seeing and hearing a bunch of weird demonic hallucinations and has been having nightmares." Kevin sighed and ran his hands down his face "How the hell do you guys manage to get yourself in such deep shit every time..."

Sam grimaced; trouble really was too quick to find them.

"I'm quite worried about exactly Dean is hearing and seeing. Whilst we know that these are the side-effects to the Mark, we may need more specifics on what it is he's actually seeing and hearing to be able to help him. Normally, whilst hallucinations like this would push someone to panic, understandably; the level of Dean's reactions was concerningly high. He was in hysterics at whatever he was seeing; it had him paralysed."

Sam hadn't even thought of that and was ashamed to admit it to himself.

"Do we even know if there's a cure for this? Cas, you said that this is a demonic mark, a pretty damn powerful one, how likely is it that us three are actually going to have the power to remove it from Dean?"

Kevin seemed not to notice the effect he'd just had on Cas and Sam with his questioning. The full force of what they were going to have to try and do started to really hit Sam. But they did have one consolation, and that was the bunker. The Men of Letters' headquarters provided them with a lot of protection and held a plethora of research material that would help them find out more about the Mark and how to actually rid Dean of it.

A thud broke them out of their meeting, a panicked shout quickly followed.

"Sam! Sammy!"

Sam leapt up and ran to Dean's room, almost falling over Dean who was lying beside his bed, presumably having fallen out of it, looking around in a panic.

"Dean, hey, it's okay, calm down!"

"Sam, where am I? One minute I'm coming out of that grimy fuckin' toilet at the motel, then it gets fuzzy...Are we back at the bunker? How did I get here? Why did I black out? Sam, I swear to god you better tell me what's going on or no rabbit food until you're 30."

Sam ignored the fact that he was past 30 years old and took a deep breath.

"Dean, I believe I should explain to you what has happened while Sam talks to Kevin."

"Cas, what're you doing here? Seriously, Sam, what is going on? We're not meant to call Cas unless it's urgent!"

"Sam."

Sam knew that tone; it was the tone Cas used when he wanted to let you know he'd handle it so you better scram, and he wasn't going to risk getting on the angel's bad side. He quickly stepped back, allowing Cas entry into Dean's room, offered another reassurance to Dean and quickly left to go talk to Kevin about how they should start research on the Mark, it's origins and a possible cure.

"Dean, please take a seat, we have... lots to talk about."

Dean looked like he was about to protest until he saw the look on Cas' face, and he complied. He quickly gathered himself from the floor and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He stayed quiet, silently telling Cas to begin his explanation.

"What is the last thing you can remember, Dean?"

"Uh, I was just coming out of the toilet at the motel, everything kind of gets a bit fuzzy after that, then it just goes blank; I don't remember anything after that."

"Dean, we think the Mark is affecting you. After you left the bathroom, Sam confronted you about the possible side effects he thought were affecting you, which then triggered an... episode, of sorts. I was forced to use my powers to render you unconscious; it was the only way to stop your episode."

There was a moment of silence. Dean had had a bad feeling this would happen eventually, but it had happened a lot sooner than he expected.

"I'm sorry, Dean, that I must ask you this question, but please answer honestly," Dean gave a hesitant nod. Cas took a shaky breath, and continued: "Dean, have you been experiencing hallucinations?"

Dean flinched, he hadn't expected Cas to be that on the ball, he could only hope they didn't know what he was seeing, or hearing as well. He knew he couldn't lie to Cas, never to Cas.

"Y-yes..." He bowed his head, hiding the fact that he was fighting back tears. His forehead crinkled as he scrunched his eyes shut in frustration.

"Dean, the Mark you took is demonic in nature, you know this, and you know that that can never change. However, all previous hosts of the Mark have never been... human, before. Sam, Kevin and I fear that due to you still being human, the Mark may be having side-effects far more severe than those of the demon hosts. Dean, please, we need to know if there are any other side-effects you may have noticed, things that have changed since you got the Mark."

Dean hesitated. The nightmares had gotten worse since the Mark had been branded onto him, but he'd always had nightmares... Was this even worth mentioning?

"No, nothing else has changed."

Dean was sure he'd be fine.

He had to be.

Cas sighed. He had a feeling Dean was hiding something else but knew that pushing the hunter would only make him close up more; he would have to wait.

"I need to go talk with Sam. Please get some sleep. Thank you, Dean."

Dean grunted and curled back up on the bed, his back facing the door and Cas. Cas left, but not without one final look towards his human ward.

__________________________

The talk with Sam yielded some progress, Kevin was currently looking through the bunker's library for anything that would be able to help them, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem, Kevin would note it down. Sam and Kevin would then look through all the books and notes Kevin had made, and they would work out from there any more information they would need to fill the holes in this puzzle. Cas would also help by talking to angels who might know more about the Mark.

However, after working for too many hours without sleep, they needed a break. This led them to uncharacteristically putting on a film, which they then fell asleep to, even Cas, who rarely needed any rest, eventually felt his eyelids grow heavy until he let himself succumb to sleep.

______________________

It wasn't anything pleasant that woke them all from their slumber, though. They caught the end of a scream as their eyes opened, sleep now their last concern.   
Sam and Cas tore through the bunker to Dean's room and skidded to a stop outside of his room. Both of them panting from the sprint as the stared into the room, only to find Dean still asleep, but something was different. Something was wrong. Dean was twitching in his sleep, just as he had done when Sam was carrying him not even 12 hours ago. They edged closer and sat by his bed, both having calmed down slightly at the discovery that Dean was not in immediate danger.

Quiet, slightly panicked mumbles broke through the quiet, audible over Sam and Cas' calming breaths.

"No, please..."

"Just get Sammy out..."

"Leave me, I'll make it..."

"Dad... Where were you..."

"Why did you leave me here alone..."

"I'm sorry... I'll be better next time..."

"No more mistakes... "The hunt comes first"..."

Sam's eyes were wide, his fist's clenched tight, trembling in his lap. Cas was deathly pale. They didn't time to further think about what Dean had mumbled, when his twitching turned into thrashing and he screamed.

"Dad, please, NO!


End file.
